


200 years of companionship

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gay Robots, Immortality, Love at First Sight, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26989351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Crowley is a robot and Aziraphale is not sure.Bea turned the android on and sat next to Aziraphale, biting their lip nervously.The robot shifted, straightened up, the lids were up…"Hello. My name is CROWLEY, commitment, resilience, observance, wit, love, exception, yellow. It's a pleasure to meet you all."Maybe it went quiet, all of it, all the damned universe, maybe it was just a very strange thing for a robot to speak in such a soft, lazy, drawling voice. However, the most extraordinary feature of CROWLEY was his yellow eyes, something old and warm and so yellow…
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGladia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGladia/gifts).



> Reupload

The Fells owned the biggest house in town. It stood far from the rest, had no fence and was hidden behind a big apple orchard. The orchard wasn't taken care of since the death of Ana Fell. Her wife Ela executed divine revenge on the orchard. As with all divine acts, it wasn't exactly a reasonable thing to do, but grief is a deity all on itself. 

Ana and Ela had three children, Gabriel, Michael and Aziraphale. They did love long names full of religious meanings. Gabriel was the eldest, tall, handsome and arrogant to the rest of the world and a complete sentimental disaster when at home. Michael was strict  _ and  _ mischievous. She was the top of her school, sometimes literally, like that time she and her girlfriend Uriel went to the school roof to snog. Aziraphale, the youngest, was everybody's unassuming darling. The most intelligent of the three, he wasn't a stellar student, didn't have the same otherworldly beauty of his siblings, but was almost unnaturally charming. He was the only blond in the family, the only one with blue eyes, shorter than his mothers and siblings, and again, an absolute treasure. Aziraphale wasn't ever ashamed of his interests, appearance or feelings, which proved handy for Gabriel on a daily basis and for Ela when Ana died. Somehow this boy of fourteen managed to grieve and comfort the rest of his family. He was the heart of the household, the strength of his mother, often the only reasonable adult in the room.

***

Ela had worked in high-tech. One of pioneers of advanced robotechnics, she was the one to create an AI that could almost pass off as a human. She predicted that the next thing they knew, the robots would have what is usually referred to as  _ souls _ , but the world had other opinions. 

As Ela watched her creations being abused, her anger - and she was a very angry woman - got the best of her. She pulled from the market, destroyed her work and had all the androids she had made returned to her. She had no idea what to do with them, so she downloaded their minds and set up a good world for them in the endless digital universe. She never checked on them. She was, in fact, the god.

Her company she handed over to Bea, her brilliant student who was allowed to continue her work with AI, but mostly had to watch that no one could ever build a complex android. It was a bit illegal, of course, but Bea didn't mind. 

Gabriel had been in love with Bea since he was about eleven, realised it when he was sixteen (Aziraphale helped, of course, Gabriel was worried he was just allergic to Bea's perfume and therefore was all light-headed and dumbstruck when they came over) and asked them out when he turned twenty. Bea gave him a once-over.

"Nah, you're a kid. That's perverted." They winced. Gabriel had been pining ever since. Bea once promised him they'd go out with him when he was thirty. Gabriel was stubborn and, as it turned out, incredibly patient. In all fairness, Bea was only seven years older, but they were autistic and queer and didn't exactly trust people to just be smitten with them. Aziraphale told them that they were being silly, because they were  _ an utter delight to be around.  _ The effect was of course quite the opposite. Bea wouldn't trust Aziraphale for years to come.

***

One day, one beautiful rainy day, Bea came by with an android. Ela frowned.

"Don't give me that look, Ela. Shadwell died. He kept working on his own. You know the bastard…" Bea wiped a tear. Ela had her eyes full of them. "He left you this one in his will. Rather cheekily added that you, being all god-like, would never be able to create, and I quote,  _ such a perfect bugger _ . I checked it. He managed to apply your last research, the one you did before you retired and deemed hopeless. Shall I turn it on?"

"Look me in the eye and swear you didn't make it yourself." Ela demanded.

"Doc, you know very well that I can't do that." Bea replied.

"Oh fuck." Ela blushed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to."

"You turned into a bit of an arse since Ana died."

"Pleasing everyone isn't our forte." Ela chuckled bitterly. "The only person I wanted to please is dead."

"I bet you're dying to see what Shadwell had built. He was such a slut for abandoned projects."

"Yes, that's why I gave him an entire department of those. Tracy is alive?"

"She is. She's alright. Says she's a medium and can talk to him."

"Did you try to hospitalise her?"

"No! Wouldn't think of it. The weirder, the better. Should I turn it on?"

Gabriel, light-headed and dumbstruck, came running into the living room, followed by Aziraphale who was trying to reason with his brother to no avail. 

"We have an audience," Bea remarked dryly. 

"So good to see you, my dear," Aziraphale beamed at Bea. Bea loved him, they did, but he was scary, what with all his… kindness and generosity and acceptance. 

"Yeah, hi, Bea," Gabriel said. Aziraphale rolled his eyes and sat next to his mother.

"How old are you now, Aziraphale?" Bea asked. 

"I'm sixteen, thank you." Aziraphale smirked. 

"Where is Michael?" Ela decided she had to save the situation and lower the awkwardness in the room.

"Oh, she's at Uriel's, mom. She's proposing. Shhh, haven't told you a thing." Aziraphale wiggled happily. He was soft, bright and sassy. Bea couldn't fathom how he hadn't had a boyfriend (or girlfriend, but that was unlikely - Aziraphale's picture should have been next to the definition of the word  _ gay  _ in any respectable dictionary), but then again, Bea didn't understand the  _ normal  _ people. They knew Aziraphale wasn't  _ normal,  _ no he was weird as fuck, yet their weird didn't coincide with everyone else's weird most of the time.

Everybody descended back into awkwardness. Aziraphale rolled his eyes again. 

"What did you bring, my dear?" Aziraphale nodded at the vaguely humanoid figure wrapped in gray silk standing in the middle of the room.

"Oh, it's a… a gift. From Shadwell. He died."

"Oh no!" Aziraphale's hand flew to his mouth, and Bea wondered again how he could be both so theatrical and so sincere. He really didn't give a damn about what anyone might think, and most importantly, he didn't find anything wrong in  _ feeling  _ things and showing the world that he had a heart. He had a very big heart, actually. Bea felt… twitchy. That big heart had a place for them too. 

"I'm inviting Tracy over to stay with us," Aziraphale informed, as he texted. 

"No, my boy, please, no…" Ela began to beg, but Michael and Uriel ran in to announce their engagement, so Ela had to hug someone unrelated to her, but Uriel was a good girl. She was fierce and angry, just like Ela, so Ela thought it was good. Even if both women were barely seventeen. The gesture was what mattered, after all, and Michael was loyal to a fault, she had always been. She had once defended a boy who was a good friend of hers and turned out to be a bully. Michael defended him and then defeated him herself. 

"Hurt my girl, and…" Ela began, whispering into Uriel's ear.

"Hurt  _ my  _ girl, end." Uriel looked at Ela and smirked. 

"Welcome, daughter," Ela said, a bit menacingly. 

"Can I show you a fucking android?!" Bea yelled. 

"Oh please, do." Aziraphale sat back where he had been sitting after a round of hugs and congratulations.

The grey silk fell to the floor revealing a tall android. It was designed beautifully, all black metal with red-lit spine (it was on, but only motor-wise, so that it could walk). The face didn't have any features apart from what could be useful, so it had a dynamic for a mouth and his eyes were dark… No, it even had lids for whatever reason. 

The synthetics weren't the problem. Ela could make a human-looking android on her own, but the mind, the dreams, the  _ imagination,  _ she never succeeded in that, and then she retired, but Shadwell indeed was the most stubborn man she had known.

Bea turned the android on and sat next to Aziraphale, biting their lip nervously. 

The robot shifted, straightened up, the lids were up…

"Hello. My name is CROWLEY, commitment, resilience, observance, wit, love, exception, yellow. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

Maybe it went quiet, all of it, all the damned universe, maybe it was just a very strange thing for a robot to speak in such a soft, lazy, drawling voice. However, the most extraordinary feature of CROWLEY was his yellow eyes, something old and warm and so yellow…

"I know you all. Shadwell told me. You're the Fells. Ela. Gabriel. Michael." CROWLEY didn't know Uriel and Bea, but skipped them and turned the yellow eyes to Aziraphale. "There must be an Aziraphale, but you're an angel, and they are not real. Must be glitching again." CROWLEY groaned in frustration.

"No… no, that's… that's me. I'm Aziraphale. You have beautiful eyes." Aziraphale coughed to cover for his confusion. 

"Venetian glass," CROWLEY explained. "Tracy…" His voice turned even softer. "Mom, she gave me those. She said I was fetching like that… is she alright?" He sounded worried.

"She's alright," Bea replied after a long pause. "Shadwell is dead."

"I think you mentioned it when you turned my motor skills on. It's a pity he's dead. He was interesting. I liked him. I like Tracy better. I like you." CROWLEY turned to Aziraphale.

"You… like?" Ela asked quietly.

"I do. It's not in my settings… You are not," CROWLEY turned to Aziraphale again. "Something strange. Something complicated. Something blue."

Ela frowned and when she spoke, her voice was grave and cruel.

"Go the window and jump out," she ordered.

"No," CROWLEY replied immediately. "You're testing your own laws, but I obey only when it feels right. What you demand doesn't. I won't break jumping out of the ground floor window. My main drive is curiosity. Questions. I ask questions. I don't just obey. I won't hurt anyone." CROWLEY shifted his shoulders, as if uncomfortable. "Can't hurt anyone. Want to hurt someone… Want to hurt death for taking Shadwell. Tracy told me death was just a concept. Want to hurt the concept."

"I'm so sorry, my dear," Aziraphale said and stood up to walk to CROWLEY but stopped himself and sat back. 

CROWLEY followed his movements with… Was a robot supposed to be able to show curiosity on his metal face? 

"I'm sorry," Ela muttered, to everyone's surprise. "What… what materials did he use for you?"

"Silicon for all things flexible, and the metal parts are his old black Bentley. I get all sorts of weird memories because of it… Please, don't turn me off. It's very boring when I'm just a mind."

Bea coughed. 

"Do you have a soul?" Ela asked, smiling.

"A soul? I don't know what you mean. You're sad, though. You're sad too," CROWLEY turned to Aziraphale yet again. "Why are you sad? I don't want you to be sad. What is it that you want?"

"We're sad because a couple of years ago my wife and Aziraphale's mother died. I'm sorry, our kids' mother died. Like Shadwell." Ela explained.

CROWLEY didn't take his glass eyes off of Aziraphale. "I want to hurt it. Want to hurt death. Why do you age? You shouldn't. I don't want you to age," CROWLEY announced looking at Aziraphale.

"Do you have a gender?" Uriel asked suddenly. Ela looked at her with admiration.

"I heard that the default is masculine, which I find ridiculous. But I'm ok with any gender I look like… I don't look like anything though. So it's a he, then." He couldn't smirk, but he was definitely smirking.

***

It was decided that CROWLEY would stay with the Fells. Ela wanted to study him, and it didn't escape her how Aziraphale, always collected and calm and kind, was looking at CROWLEY. She thought it would pass. She wasn't going to allow any human, including her son, to take any advantage off a robot, let alone of such a complex and delicate one, but she loved the expression on Aziraphale's face, and she was the god, and she was mischievous. Michael wasn't like that out of nowhere after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Bea left when it was getting dark. Gabriel walked them to their car and stood there like Gabriel until Bea snarled at him that they were perfectly capable of starting the car all on their own.

"Please, let's have a date," Gabriel blurted.

"I can't have a date with you! You were a minor when we met!" Bea replied. They were probably crying.

"Did you notice me back then?" Gabriel asked automatically.

"I don't notice people unless they talk to me, you pervert!"

"I didn't talk to you. I wasn't there as far as you were concerned. I didn't know I loved you until Aziraphale talked to me and explained it to me."

"I don't trust Aziraphale," Bea said.

"I know. Nobody does. This world is so fucked up we fail to trust the only person who means well, truly well."

Bea drove off without another word.

***

In the morning Aziraphale came down. Aziraphale of the earthly pleasures, of good food, of good sleep, of the sensual pleasure of waking up to the softness of the cotton sheets, woke up early and went down as if sleepwalking. He was wistful, he was restless, he didn't know what was happening to him. 

He went into the orchard. He loved how lovely and quiet it was, but that morning it was neither of these things. CROWLEY was working there, digging and cursing and talking to the fucking blessed apple trees. He must have heard Aziraphale because his arms and hands shifted back into vaguely resembling human ones with low wheezing. 

He turned to Aziraphale.

"I'm sorry. I know, I look creepy. Shadwell told me that. But he gave me all these tools." Crowley looked at his arms. At his Swiss army knives of arms. "I must have woken you up. Didn't mean to. You're sad. I hate it that you're sad."

Aziraphale swallowed and forced out a smile. "It's alright, my dear. You're doing so well."

"You think? Tracy told me trees are slow and resilient, so… I guess they need to live."

"They do… it was my mother's… my dead mother's orchard."

"Trees are slow to die. You all should be trees. Especially you."

"Why me?"

"You should never die, because you're beautiful."

"It doesn't work like that, my dear." Aziraphale shook his head fondly.

"I absolutely hate it."

"How long did that man keep you turned off?"

"About sixteen years. Tracy talked to me, though. She told me about Hamlet.  _ O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. _ It's all true, you know."

"I do…" Aziraphale answered breathlessly.

"But I didn't like it. I prefer the… the funny ones. Why are you so sad? It's killing me! You look so bright and you smile, but you're sad! Why are you so sad? Can I do anything? I can't stand you being sad!"

Aziraphale stared at CROWLEY. There was no face, but Aziraphale saw a face. There was no skin or hair, but Aziraphale saw him ginger and covered in freckles.

"I don't think I can explain it. Certainly not to you."

CROWLEY stepped backwards, as if slapped. "I dare do all that may become a man. Who dares more, is none."

"Macbeth is hardly a funny one," Aziraphale replied. 

CROWLEY's glass eyes glowed, he was… he was burning. He was offended and hurt, but it wasn't true, none of it was. Aziraphale turned on his heels and left the orchard. 

***

Once Gabriel left in Ela's car for the uni, once Uriel picked Michael and Aziraphale up, Ela called CROWLEY to her study.

"Why are you taking care of the apple trees?" she asked.

"You wouldn't ask a human such a question, but you're questioning me. Well, if you must know, I believe trees should live. They have such resilience, they persevere. I admire that." CROWLEY stood there, young as the creation and equally old, proud and humble, so human, a human locked within an old Bentley and some silicone.

Ela opened her mouth to ask another question but CROWLEY was quicker. 

"Why is your angel son so sad?" He asked. "I can't bear it. He shouldn't be sad."

Ela smiled knowingly. "It's because of you and your Venetian glass eyes," she replied. To her horror and ache, Crowley walked towards the window and jumped down. Ela's study was on the first floor.

She spent the rest of the day fixing him.

"Do you want skin? A proper face and mouth? A nose? Some hair?" 

"Make me handsome. Want your angel son to like me."

"Oh, he does. It will take him years to admit to it. He's always been the wisest of us, but you brought about the time of his silliness."

"What do you mean?"

"He… you know, I can't reveal his secrets, and he thinks it's a secret."

"What is?"

"Whatever it is he chooses not to tell." Ela shrugged.

"Ok… make me handsome." 

Ela did make him handsome. She gave him red hair and freckled skin. She didn't bother giving him a dick or a cunt. She didn't care about any of those. "You'll figure it out. I want you to be free and exploring, so go explore." 

CROWLEY stood up from the table and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Give me a dick," he said and lay back again. "Or a cunt. And some clothes."

"Alright, what you want between your ridiculous legs, you'll have to figure it out yourself. The clothes… I have some. I'll make some. Let's do fashion."

A few hours later CROWLEY stood in front of the mirror, dressed in tight black, looking for all intents and purposes like a sex bomb. He had red hair, he had freckled skin, his fingers were long, his skin was at the room temperature. His Venetian glass eyes looked more human than any other eye. 

"Aziraphale is…" Ela began.

"If he sees me like that, will he stop being so sad?" CROWLEY asked turning this and that way.

"I don't know. Just… be you."

So CROWLEY returned to the orchard, designer clothes and badly attached pelvis.  _ (Shadwell really had no fucking idea how hips and legs should work, did he?) _

CROWLEY worked the orchard, and it was extraordinary how all his knowledge, nay, all human knowledge about apple trees was incorporated into the work of a peculiar android. He took off his jacket and shirt, so Aziraphale found him half naked, but cool and pale, focused on the job at hand. Aziraphale rushed to his mother's study.

"He… I mean CROWLEY, he can't feel anything, can he?" 

Ela didn't reply. 

"I… I need to know. I'm drawn to him, to his wit and Venetian glass eyes, but he… he'll just obey me, right?"

Ela looked up, reproachful and a few small steps from angry. "I don't know if you'd met him," she said, "but the last thing CROWLEY will do is obedience. He'll obey no one. That's how he was built. That's how  _ I  _ failed to build him. You're an idiot. I'm disappointed," she shook her head. 

"But he can't  _ feel.  _ However complex he is, he isn't human!"

"Each thing you find unnatural or incomprehensible is just a thing you haven't spent enough time thinking of, Aziraphale. It's my last word."

CROWLEY worked in the orchard through the night, and through the following day too. By the end of the month the orchard was alive, while CROWLEY hadn't stopped working even once. His body, his tight trousers were dirty, yet he didn't care. Somehow the orchard was the most important thing in his life.

"Tell me," Ela asked when she was washing CROWLEY and putting some oil on his many joints, "why are you doing this?"

"You told me to be myself. Myself… it means keeping the trees alive. It means keeping things alive. Death… it's a stupid thing. There's no death. I accept no death. I don't want anyone to die except for death itself. Life is glorious. Life is mysterious. I'm not alive, not in the way I'd like to be, that is, but I can let other things live."

"How would you like to be alive?" Ela asked carefully.

"Not gonna catch me there. If I'm alive like you and your children, I'll die. Don't want to. Too curious. But I…" His voice suddenly turned automatic and expressionless. "But  _ I forbid thee one most heinous crime: O carve not with thy hours my love’s fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine ántique pen. Him in thy course untainted do allow For beauty’s pattern to succeeding men. Yet do thy worst, old Time; despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young. _ "

"And you're in love?" Ela asked, amused and bewitched. It was her work after all. She couldn't continue it, couldn't find a solution, but this android, he was precious to her, and she wouldn't allow her hedonistic, darling son to break this android's core. Heart. Anything. 

"I don't know. Not enough data." 

Ela cupped CROWLEY's face and told him:

"I am your Lord Gd. You'll have no other gods beside me."

"No," CROWLEY pushed her hands away. "Not enough data. I'm not made to obey. I'm made to question and perhaps to love. Not to obey. I don't obey. I don't listen. I'm a fool."

He kept taking care of the orchard. It bore fruit. 

***

CROWLEY didn't read. He scanned the books. Yet he knew, he heard that reading was like good wine, good food - it had to be savoured. Aziraphale told him so too. 

"So  _ you  _ read to me and I'll listen," CROWLEY said. He was shirtless, his spine was glowing red through his skin.

"What does it matter if you know the story anyway?" Aziraphale asked.

"I don't know it according to you. You're too sad. Don't like you sad. Read to me."

"Why is your spine red?"

"Indicates how charged I am. I can't forget about it. I need to be a body electric, need the energy you get from food and being you. Read to me." CROWLEY was digging as he spoke, was pruning as he thought. Aziraphale read to him. CROWLEY was maddening - he said Romeo and Juliet had to communicate better; he said Hamlet had to be more calculating; he said Macbeth should have been calmer; he said Richard III had bad parents; he said Lear was a fool, and the Fool was the real king. He despised Dickens, yet he adored Chekhov. He loathed Dostoevsky, yet liked Tolstoy, begrudgingly. He loved Homer and Sophocles. He didn't like Euripides. He hated Nietzsche. He mocked Kant. He loved Goethe so much Aziraphale was jealous. Oh, but robots couldn't feel, couldn't have opinions. It just meant that Shadwell liked Goethe. 

Tracy came to visit and said Shadwell had never read Goethe, and neither did she.

Aziraphale walked into the orchard, found CROWLEY  _ fucking arguing  _ with a tree. It was early, it was barely five in the morning. 

"I came here to read Goethe to you," Aziraphale said with conviction.

"Oh, please!" CROWLEY sat down under a tree. 

_ Meine Ruh ist hin, _

_ Mein Herz ist schwer, _

_ Ich finde sie nimmer _

_ Und nimmermehr. _

_ Wo ich ihn nicht hab, _

_ Ist mir das Grab, _

_ Die ganze Welt _

_ Ist mir vergällt. _

Aziraphale read Gretchen's song over and over, but CROWLEY didn't say a thing. 

_ Mein armer Kopf _

_ Ist mir verrückt, _

_ Mein aremer Sinn _

_ Ist mir zerstückt. _

_ Nach ihm nur schau ich _

_ Zum Fenster hinaus, _

_ Nach ihm nur geh ich _

_ Aus dem Haus. _

Aziraphale looked at CROWLEY. He was caressing a tree. Even with his shirt on Aziraphale could always make out his red-lit spine, but it was achingly empty now, just glowing blue through the fine cotton of his top. And Aziraphale froze and Aziraphale rose and Aziraphale ran away. 

Ela stopped him as he was leaving for school.

"Break his heart, and I'll replace it. He's immortal, he just needs maintenance. Break his heart and I'll disown you. He's a miracle. I hate it he's no child of mine. Break his heart, and I'll make sure he breaks yours."

Aziraphale stared at his mother. 

"I don't care about him," he said. "Just an experiment. You always said they couldn't feel things." He pretended to laugh. Ela grabbed his elbow and pulled him close.

"He  _ can  _ feel things. He feels things better than any of us humans can grasp. He likes you, liked you from the moment he saw you. Don't experiment on him. He's a robot, alright, but he's truly alive. You, on the other hand…" And she let him go. 

Aziraphale went to school and studied. Aziraphale went out on a date with a boring classmate of his called… He thought his name was Sandy, but he wasn't sure. 

Sandy was alright. Not bright, not handsome, not interesting, but absolutely smitten with Aziraphale, and Aziraphale hated it. Gabriel had Bea. Michael had Uriel. Ela had Ana's ghost. CROWLEY had the orchard. He hadn't been charged since that morning when Aziraphale read Goethe to him. He had a face now, a mouth, pink lips, red hair, totally independent pelvis, black shirts, snakeskin boots, tight trousers. His empty battery glowed blue through his shirt. Aziraphale knew the shape of his nipples and areolas, knew the pattern of his chest hair, knew the way CROWLEY's mechanic muscles moved when he worked, knew that only CROWLEY could make the tea  _ exactly  _ the way Aziraphale liked it. CROWLEY  _ knew  _ Aziraphale was sad and he kept bothering Aziraphale with that question that sounded more and more like a plea. 

"Why are you sad, angel? Why are you sad? What can I do?"

Ela didn't mention CROWLEY's uncharged battery. Ela talked to him and listened to him. He was precious to her, he was real to her. 

"He  _ is  _ the real thing!" Ela argued when Aziraphale confronted her about it. "Michael has Uriel, Gabriel has Bea, I have your mother's ghost, but you… you could have had it all, you coward."

Aziraphale let Sandy give him a blowjob. Aziraphale let Sandy fuck him. Aziraphale broke up with him because he couldn't stand him.

Oscar came next, another student a bit older than Aziraphale. He was caring and passionate, he made love cleverly, he knew ars amandi, he did. Aziraphale wanted to marry him, and the feeling was mutual, apparently. Oscar was a human, a real human. Oscar proposed at the prom. They wanted to go to Oxford together. They had a life. 

Aziraphale came home after the prom. CROWLEY had been sitting in the library reading about… something in Greek. For all his intelligence, Oscar didn't know Greek, but Aziraphale did, and so did CROWLEY apparently, for he was reading a Greek book about rembetiko. His lips moved. He had lips after all. 

"Why would anyone write such a song?" CROWLEY asked. " _ If there is a God, may you burn in flames and from my teardrop, may you drink fire, my heart, you cannot forgive forever. If there is a God and if anyone loves me… _ " 

"I don't think you can understand it," Aziraphale said. CROWLEY looked up from the book and smiled, his whole face glowing. "Heya, angel. What's up?"

"Do you… do you really fail to understand this song?" Aziraphale asked.

"I do, angel."

By that point CROWLEY had been cooking, repairing, fixing, learning for two years or so. 

"It's about… I will put it on for you."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and found the song. He didn't know he hated Dalaras so much. 

As the song played, Aziraphale closed his eyes and swayed, swayed, swayed, and when he opened his eyes he saw CROWLEY standing there, looking at Aziraphale with those magnificent, magnetic glass eyes, oh what a shade of yellow they were!

"What does it mean, angel? Why is he so angry? I know I would answer such a call. Bugger all, I'd answer a call far less desperate than this." He seemed to imply more, but then again, he was a robot. He learned from the best. Aziraphale couldn't stand him. 

So he touched his naked elbow.

"Do you feel anything, dear boy?"

"I feel you. You're warm and very upset. I've known you for two years, angel, and you're only happy when we're sitting in the orchard for hours arguing about Shakespeare." CROWLEY frowned, confused. He had a face now, he had such a sharp, clever, expressive face.

"I agreed to marry my boyfriend. We're going to Oxford together, as a couple. As spouses."

CROWLEY's face literally darkened, as if he had been a phone adjusting its brightness according to the time of the day. That was all he was, after all, Aziraphale reminded himself. 

"And… are you happy about it?" CROWLEY asked gingerly.

"I am. And I am heartbroken about it. The one I want, the one I love is… He's not even a human."

"So that's how you write all those sad songs…" CROWLEY mused. "It's stupid, you know. You live such short lives. You should be happy, no, you have to be happy, angel. Does this Oscar make you happy?"

"No," Aziraphale shook his head to shake away his tears. "No, he doesn't. But he's available." 

"I can put on a dick. I can put on a cunt. I'm always available," CROWLEY said too calmly. 

"Yes, because you're a robot. That's what you do. We created your kind to be slaves. That's why mom prohibited making you."

"You're doing me no favours by refusing me, angel," CROWLEY said.

"You haven't even offered yourself, my dear. You're not a human, and I am. I have to be with my kind. I have to."

"You have to be happy, angel." CROWLEY walked out of the library. His hand brushed Aziraphale's. It was warm, it was hot, it was burning. His empty, ever so empty spine was glowing furious red.


	3. Chapter 3

Ela died calmly. She hadn't been sick, but she was, as CROWLEY described it to the rest of the family, wilting. CROWLEY was furious. 

One day Ela just walked into the dining room where her children, Bea and Uriel were waiting (GROWLEY was glaring at a broccoli; he grew it and it didn't look perfect according to his standards, and he found the idea of such an imperfect vegetable being consumed by his people was hateful). "I'm dying," she said, turned around and went into her room. 

CROWLEY dropped the vegetable and rushed after her, the rest following on his heels. 

Ela was sitting by the window. 

"I want to talk to each of you, but with CROWLEY first." 

So Gabriel and Bea, Michael and Uriel were sitting on the floor waiting to be called in, while Aziraphale was pacing and driving everyone even madder. He was so much calmer when Ana was dying, he was just like his family on the floor, but now he didn't have a heart anymore and he was anxious. 

***

"Don't fucking do it to me!" CROWLEY croaked. 

"I'm not doing it to you. Look at me."

He did. Ela's eyes were misty and unseeing. 

"I overrated the humans. They are interesting, I'll give you that, but see, the moment there are more than two variables, it's impossible to predict how the system will behave. I'm so tired of this unpredictability. Yet the most infuriating part is that Aziraphale is so much better and so much worse than what I wanted… the rest are fine. Aziraphale is too complicated which makes him both impossibly kind and equally cruel. No one can know about you, CROWLEY. If they start building robots again, they'll abuse them again… my robots were young, they were children, they were innocent and idealistic. Somehow you're entirely different. I want you to find out why. Do you want to be seen as human?"

"That's a lot of philosophical shit. You want me to play human?"

"No. I asked you a question. I don't exactly have much time."

"I don't want to be seen as human. I'm not a human. I've come to understand, though, that I'm alive and that I will not die."

"Good. So work, study, invent. You'll always be safe here but I'm sure Bea will take care of you in case you want to travel. Aziraphale…"

"Of course. Anything." His eyes grew warmer and older. There were wrinkles around his eyes, his skin needed replacing… Ela was leaving him her laboratory, so he'd figure it all out, if he hadn't already. 

"I suggest you start with the taste buds," Ela winked, smiled, widely and mischievously. CROWLEY leaned down to kiss her forehead, smiled back and left. 

***

Aziraphale was the last to talk to Ela. He stepped out of the room, eyes red and puffy, lips wobbling. The rest were no better, apart from CROWLEY who stood there calmly, head down. He looked at Aziraphale.

"I'm going to fucking hug you," he warned and moved, but Aziraphale was quicker and held him first. 

And behold, it was strange and rather good. More than rather good. It was the fucking best. Something hummed within CROWLEY, his body was hot and dry, his skin was peculiar to touch, but it was CROWLEY's skin, which was decidedly missing in every other touch of Aziraphale's life. 

But CROWLEY didn't breathe. CROWLEY wasn't alive, CROWLEY was body electric, despite the fact that he hadn't charged for years. CROWLEY had figured it out, eventually - he literally needed the sun to keep going, not even the light, just the warmth. He was a snake, Aziraphale thought when CROWLEY told him about his discovery. 

Such a simple thing, such unnoticeable noise and feeling, and however right CROWLEY's skin felt, hugging him felt… electric. Aziraphale hadn't expected it to be so. 

CROWLEY's arms were around him, CROWLEY's sharp useless nose nuzzled his hair… The rest of the Fells joined them for a family hug. 

"We need tea," Aziraphale said finally. Everyone moved to the kitchen, then to the dining room where they got to eat their cooled dinner. CROWLEY hissed at vegetables. He didn't eat after all, so he was antagonising the food. 

"Why didn't Oscar come?" Bea asked out if the blue. 

"I really don't think it's an appropriate question," Michael began, but Uriel covered her hand and tsked. 

"I wondered too," Uriel explained. "I'm interested."

"What are we doing about the funeral though?" Gabriel asked. 

"Not having one." CROWLEY answered. 

"You're not experimenting on my mother!" Aziraphale said. 

"Tells more about you. She wanted a cremation."

"I'm sorry… you think I… I approve of death? You think it's easy for me? You think…"

"I think you need a hug," CROWLEY said evenly, sat next to Aziraphale and gave him one. He left his arm around Aziraphale's shoulders when Aziraphale moved back. 

By the way, behold, it wasn't so strange and was still absolutely fucking best. 

"So, Oscar." Bea reminded.

"He's been… angry with me." Aziraphale blushed.

"I guess you cancelling the wedding for the 136th time doesn't help," CROWLEY remarked dryly. 

"Been counting?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed." CROWLEY smirked.

"As far as I'm concerned, and I'm not," Bea lifted their arms defensively, "Oscar's a nice guy, but… isn't he boring?"

"I'm not sure how it must…" Aziraphale began. "Actually, you know, we should talk about CROWLEY."

"But you always talk about CROWLEY," Bea rolled their eyes.

"I don't!" Aziraphale protested too much. 

"You do. Especially when asked about Oscar." CROWLEY supplied unhelpfully. Michael coughed, Uriel coughed too. Before long everyone but CROWLEY were coughing.

"Anyway. I… I want you to know, my dear, that you're one of us. Mom said you are welcome to stay here…"

"Actually Ela said you could always come to me for any help," Bea informed. "I guess Aziraphale is just jealous. You know it all by yourself."

"He's not. I do." CROWLEY said curtly. 

"You need a name, though," Aziraphale suggested, changing the subject. Always helped him. 

"I have one. I'm a robot and I'm CROWLEY and I like my name and its meaning."

"You know, he's the most human of us." Gabriel raised his teacup in toast. "You're the heart of this house,  _ robot _ , and we're honoured to have you. And happy of course."

Bea gave Gabriel a long look. "Ok, I'll go out with you."

"I'm not thirty yet." Gabriel reminded, but was, for all intents and purposes, vibrating with joy, and it was inappropriate, on a day like that, but Ela would have approved.

"It's ok. Just one more year. I waited long enough," Bea took a careful sip of their tea. 

"You waited?" Gabriel asked incredulously.

"They did," CROWLEY nodded.

***

The coroner stated in his report that Ela Fell died of spontaneous combustion. After all, there  _ was  _ some ash. No one believed him. Ela remained  _ missing _ . All the Fells were questioned. CROWLEY apparently had solid human documents. Bea wasn't crushing every initiative to return to building androids just with money. They were so awesome, so short in stature, so black-eyed and black-haired.

***

The Fells sat in the orchard and ate endless apples. CROWLEY described every species of apple trees in great detail, which was sadly lost to the sound of delighted moans (Aziraphale) and equally delighted crunching. 

Ela was right, CROWLEY thought, looking at Aziraphale, he had to start working on the taste buds. He had to start working… 

But it could wait. Aziraphale was there, beautiful, happy, apple juice running down his chin. If CROWLEY had a fully functioning tongue, he'd lick it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to suck a hickey on Aziraphale's neck. He needed a tongue with taste buds. He needed to wire his lips differently. He wanted to feel more than any human could have managed, and he considered himself capable of much feeling, of the deepest emotions. 

The work could wait. For now, sitting with his family and watching Aziraphale was everything he needed. Aziraphale was a sun on his own. Aziraphale's warmth, that particular wavelength was more nourishing to CROWLEY than a sunny day in the orchard. He'd take his shirt off, to feel the wind, to feel his insides hum disapprovingly at the way they became overcharged and anxious. 

CROWLEY had no desire to try food. He had no interest in cooking other than for the sake of his family (especially Aziraphale) enjoying a meal he had made and for the chemistry involved. 

He'd give away anything, all of his peculiar, indescribable self, to taste Aziraphale's lips, his skin, his eyelashes… They had to tickle. 

Loaded with apples, everyone but CROWLEY left. He remained standing in his orchard. 

There was an apple in his hand. "Your shape is repulsive. You're not supposed to be so… Well, I guess, you're baroque. Alright, I like you. Keep growing." He let go off the apple and it jumped up on its branch. He returned to the house. He wanted to do something with himself, so he replaced his skin, careful to repeat the pattern of his freckles. 

He looked in the mirror. His doll-like crotch bothered him, suddenly. He gave himself both a cock and a vagina. He began researching the endless depths of porn. 

Two days later he still hadn't reached that  _ orgasm  _ thing. He didn't like mainstream porn, didn't like any other porn, and he did have a look at robots having sex. That was how he discovered  _ Westworld.  _ He didn't like it. He admired the ideas. It was all wrong though.

He washed himself and returned to his doll state. He didn't like it, again. He gave himself a cock, because he wasn't very good at fingering. Actually, he wasn't good at anything regarding sex. He wanted to touch Aziraphale. He wanted Aziraphale's eyes fixed on him. Someone knew, he had his eyes fixed on Aziraphale since the moment they met. Maybe he should have talked to Aziraphale…

***

"Az, if you delay our wedding  _ again _ …" Oscar was frustrated. Aziraphale couldn't even find it in himself to be sorry for him, for all the pain he had been causing and was about to cause. Oscar  _ was  _ good. Actually, he was bloody perfect, apart from the fact that he didn't have beautiful synthetic skin, there was no low humming inside him, and he breathed… oh fuck, he breathed so much. He breathed and breathed and breathed. No low humming, no glowing empty battery of his spine, no badly attached pelvis, no dry sense of humour, no passion for knowledge. Besides Oscar was calling him  _ Az. _

"I asked you many times not to call me that. I'm asking again. My mother has just died. I'm in no mood for a wedding."

"You've been finding excuses for years! You're getting your masters degree in a week, and you're still…"

"My mother asked me to dump you. It was her last wish." Aziraphale briefly thought that it sounded like the worst excuse ever, but it actually was a true one.

"What? Why? Was she… was she a homophobe?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. He didn't even have it in him to be angry at Oscar for forgetting that Ela was a lesbian.

"Sorry… it's just… I'm just. We're happy, Aziraphale!"

"We really are not." Aziraphale chuckled. Ela had also told him to be honest, if not with himself, then with other people. "There's someone else. There has always been someone else."

"You… you cheated on me!"

"Never. I just never loved you. You're perfect, Oscar, and I tried to love you for it. The one I want, the one I truly love… he's… he's the one I want and love. No other way to put it. I tried to be happy with you. I tried to make you happy."

"You did… I can't believe it. Five years, Aziraphale. Fucking five years…" Oscar dropped to the floor, incredulous, offended, hurt, and Aziraphale felt nothing. Who was the robot now? Who was a machine without feelings or emotions? Aziraphale brushed those thoughts aside. 

"What… what is it he does that you love him so?" Oscar asked in the end.

"Grows apple trees? Cooks wonderfully. Prefers Shakespeare's funny ones. Tortures me with his wit and humour and intelligence. He's unreachable to me, but I can't… I can't lie anymore. I mean, I still will, because I can't have him…"

"He sounds like one of your mother's androids. No human would ever be so well attuned to you."

Oscar wasn't an idiot, but at least he didn't know the truth.

"He's a family member. Very distant. We can't be together, but I love him and want to love him without pretense. You deserve better too… I don't care though. You insulted my mother's memory, her work, her people in one sentence. This is my flat, Oscar. I'm paying for it. I'll let you stay until you find a solution, but please, be gone when I'm back."

***

Aziraphale had just settled in a cozy hotel room when CROWLEY called. 

"Angel, I need help."

"Oh dearest… what… what happened? Are you alright? I can't fix you, you know? Did you call Bea?"

"Oh shut up, I can fix myself just fine. I outsourced some of me into a robot that does the fine motor skills stuff… hate it. Anyway. What books, movies, anything about sex or sensual love would you recommend? I spent two days watching porn and a week watching romcoms. I read Jane Austen. I read all of them Brontës. I don't get it."

Aziraphale momentarily blacked out thinking of CROWLEY watching porn and reading Austen. 

"Ehm… I don't see how Austen could come handy when you're… studying the subject of sensual love…"

"Everyone recommended her. Tracy recommended her. You have your Goodreads account full of Austen."

"You follow me on Goodreads?"

"No, but you come up all the time as the most knowledgeable person. Nothing to do with me."

"I  _ am _ knowledgeable, I suppose."

"Well, share some of it. I don't understand… I don't understand. I don't understand. How is Oscar?"

"Broke up with him. Nevermind. Had to have done it years ago."

CROWLEY was silent for a while.

"I'm not sorry. I'm glad you did it. His Goodreads account is… he hates science, it seems."

"Does he? Oh… didn't know that. How about  _ Gordon _ ?"

There was some wheezing, some sweet, lovely, beautiful low humming. 

"Oh, ok. Too kinky. Want something tender."

"Try Forster?"

Some more humming… oh, fuck the breath. That gentle humming, as CROWLEY downloaded and  _ read _ things.

"Not explicit."

"Alright, my dear. If anyone learns about it, I will personally disassemble you."

"This sounds way too erotic," CROWLEY replied after a pause. "Don't think you aimed for it. Also, very kinky."

"Alright, my dear. You asked for it. I'm going to send you some… fanfiction. No better way to learn about sexuality, if you ask me."

Some more humming. Too little.

"Ok. Fanfiction. Like the idea. What have you got?"

"Will you still be talking to me?"

"I mean… is it that bad? What have you got? I was just… curious. I masturbated for two days, Aziraphale. I had to charge myself the old way. It tingles. At least it tingles. Masturbating is so annoying…"

"Tell me about it. It can be pleasant too."

"What do you think of when you masturbate? They say, think of someone you like… I tried apples."

"Try me then," Aziraphale replied. 

"No, need your consent. Care about you too much. You know what makes me different from everyone else? I found out."

"You have an imagination, dearest."

"How did you know?"

"Know you. So happy to know you."

"Don't… don't. Send me your… fanfiction."

"It's not mine…"

"Found it. Yours.  _ Roboangel2020? _ Really?"

"I hate you."

"You don't."

"Did you hack me?"

"Well… might have? Ok, not reading any of it. Want to come visit? That hotel room is awful. Hacked you, yes. Don't stay there. It has ghosts."

"That's why I'm staying."

"Thought you didn't like spooky, angel."

"I don't. I had to delete the whole evening of watching  _ The Silence of the Lambs _ from your memory, remember?"

"Can't remember. You deleted it."

"My bad… I'll be on my way. Make me an apple pie."

***

CROWLEY dropped a dollop of ice cream on Aziraphale's slice of apple pie. Then he sat in front of Aziraphale, resting his chin on his hands. 

"Read the whole queer section on Goodreads. Feel much better. Apparently, I'm a demisexual?"

Aziraphale took a forkful of pie and ice cream into his mouth and moaned.

"You know, angel, I watched everything on Pornhub. You make the most… pornographic noises. They all could learn a thing or two from you. Also, the chubby section doesn't hold a candle to you. Also, no one looks at anyone like you look at me. I don't know what it means, but it's beautiful. You told me we… you implied we couldn't be together. I guess you're right. I can never be so… sensual. Maybe you're right about me…"

"I doubt anyone has ever been right about you, my dear."

"Oh, you flatter me, angel. How's the pie?"

"Scrumptious."

"You're about the only person in the English speaking world to use that word. Looked it up."

"Oh dearest, you're such a fiend. Get thee behind me, Satan."

"You mustn't be kissed? I'm rewiring my lips. So that I can feel more, you know…"

"Why would you do that, my dear boy? I'm not kissing you. You're not… the real thing."

"You're a bastard. What makes a thing real?"

"The real thing is the one that comes uninvited."

"Then I'm the realest thing in your life, angel. Gonna work. The rest of the pie is in the oven. Your room is ready."


	4. Chapter 4

CROWLEY disappeared for a month. Initially Aziraphale didn't notice it - CROWLEY tended to disappear when he was particularly obsessed with something, and he was constantly obsessed with something. He had one obsession that governed his pursuits, which was his quixotic battle with death, but smaller obsessions came and went. So, initially, Aziraphale didn't worry, and by initially Aziraphale implied for the first two hours. Then he went to bed and woke up in the middle of the night to write down his wet dreams in the form of very popular robot/human fanfiction. He dearly hoped CROWLEY kept his word and didn't read any of Aziraphale's ouvres. 

The next day Aziraphale went back to Oxford. By the end of the week he got his master's degree and went home to pursue his hobby of restoring the old books, which he had decided would be his profession, because he could do it at home, while listening to the sounds of the house. 

"That boy…" Aziraphale cursed lovingly as he set up his working place. "Nothing but a glorified clock, and still he never minds time!"

Aziraphale froze in the middle of moving the table. They had had this conversation, they had. CROWLEY had disappeared in his (Ela's) study, or rather in the laboratory next to the study, and Aziraphale was reading Goethe aloud to the apple trees. He said something along the same lines, when a shadow covered him from the sun. He looked up to see CROWLEY.

"You too are a clock, angel, you just have more biomass."

"Ha-ha."

"Wasn't trying to be funny, angel."

"You once told me I only look happy reading to you, but you're not available. So…"

CROWLEY had been trying to use his lips more when he spoke, but when agitated, he forgot about it entirely, and his voice came out sibilantly, as if his speaker had been broken. CROWLEY was agitated.

"You miss me. I'm sorry. I made you sad again. How come, I want you to stop being sad but you're always sad when I'm around?" He turned around and walked away to disappear again.

Aziraphale snapped out of his reverie. He was peckish. He was giddy. 

Maybe CROWLEY didn't feel exactly right, but he was somewhere in the house trying to solve the most maddening secrets of the universe. The thought made Aziraphale's heart skip a beat. 

His most maddening secret was just that. How was it possible that his heart became Fred Astaire when he thought of CROWLEY, and he did think of him quite a lot, and those thoughts were sweet. 

A month later CROWLEY slid into a chair in front of Aziraphale who was eating an apple pie.

"Ok, I discovered it's been a month. You're still here, and you're not that sad. What did I miss?"

"Quite a lot actually," Aziraphale replied through a mouthful of pie.

"I do hope it's not the same pie."

"It's not, my dear. I can make a pie."

"You can't."

"Ok, I bought it. No one was there to cook." Aziraphale pouted. Something wheezed inside CROWLEY, and he leaned on his elbow to take a closer look at Aziraphale. 

"You're twitching more than usual…" Aziraphale said slowly. Oh, he could try, he did try to take his eyes off of that magnificent Venetian gaze, but he was only human… only human.

"Rewired myself. A bit. Look." CROWLEY gently took a fork from Aziraphale's lips (hot, hot, hot skin, a bit rubbery, so pleasant, because it was CROWLEY's) and picked a piece of pie. He lifted it to his mouth. 

CROWLEY chewed carefully and slowly, looking at Aziraphale. His eyes brightened and he shoved another forkful into his mouth. "This is fucking awesome! Wow! I did it! I made them taste buds! Proud of me?"

"Always," Aziraphale rasped bewitched by CROWLEY'S eyes and moving lips. 

"Also, lips feel things now. Changed my skin too. Now everything is a bit uncomfortable, but ok," he shrugged. 

CROWLEY would roll up his skin like a sleeve when he worked, and Aziraphale couldn't help being relieved to think CROWLEY wouldn't do it anymore… Probably. 

"Can you… roll your skin up?"

"Oh, yes, sure. Just need to turn a few things on and off… I have a question for you, angel."

"Don't you always?"  _ Darling, darling, darling… no.  _

"Walking corpse syndrome. Heard of it?"

"Of course…" Aziraphale didn't like where the conversation was going, but he couldn't exactly talk to CROWLEY about writing erotica about him.

"So… maybe I'm the opposite, huh? I think I'm alive, and you say it's delusional."

Aziraphale wanted to throw up. 

"Made you sad again…" CROWLEY looked at his hands. "You know… I've come to an interesting conclusion. If you still want to talk to me…"

"Hold me. Now." Aziraphale demanded. CROWLEY rushed to his side and scooped Aziraphale in his arms. He was warm and hot and humming and wheezing. It was good, it was comfortable, it was sweeter than any pie, it was a bit sour, it was… tender. 

"Keep talking," Aziraphale said into the crook of CROWLEY's neck. His skin felt rubbery to the touch, but - oh fuck, the stupidity, the ridiculousness! - it was CROWLEY, and CROWLEY could be anything, but everything about him felt right all the same, it was good, divinely, properly good.

Aziraphale pressed his hand to where CROWLEY's heart would have been, had he had one…

"First… all of me is heart, when it comes to you. I skip beats, I tremble, I shake, I don't know anything but how much I want you. Second, I came to a conclusion that all life is but a coincidence. Just some incidental sync of a few molecules. I checked, there's nothing special about me. In a way, I was born, but differently. Some would say it's a glitch, but so is all life. It's the tone of the universe, angel. Complexity begets life, even if it's  _ simple  _ life. Complexity starts after there are more than two variables… I'm alive, angel. Why can't you see that I'm alive?" CROWLEY rocked his angel in his arms. 

Aziraphale reached to touch his ears - and CROWLEY shivered. 

"Did you wire your ears to be erogenous?"

"No… just… it's been a month, I played with myself a lot… Tickles." He chuckled. Aziraphale looked inside his ears. 

"It's speakers."

"Yes. I need ears to tuck my hair behind them. But it feels good… felt good when you touched them."

"You barely move your lips," Aziraphale whispered.

"Sorry. Concentrating on you… my lips are not involved in any contact with you, so it's a bit of a… of an extra."

"Not kissing you. Not now. Can't."

"What makes you human, angel?" CROWLEY spoke so close to Aziraphale's face, but there was no breath tickling Aziraphale's skin - and suddenly he liked it. He liked it a lot. There weren't any foreign smells, some chemical reactions taking place in someone's mouth. There was the strange, synthetic smell of CROWLEY. 

"My capacity to love, I'd say." Aziraphale whispered again. Those eyes, those damned, snake-like, cat-like, swirling, glowing eyes gazed at him, and CROWLEY never blinked anyway, unless he needed to clean the glass.

"You love a robot. Does your love make me human?"

"You don't want to be a human. I think the question is whether it makes me a robot."

"I don't care who you are. My skin is quite organic, by the way. Will have to replace it really soon, I'm afraid…"

"I'm sitting on your lap."

"Not wearing a cock. Or anything. Never do around you. Scared what I might do. Think. Feel. It's an expression of a response, erection. I'm afraid… the way I feel it, my brain… my… core is always on fire when I'm next to you."

"I want to go to bed. I missed you. I should have checked on you… wasn't ready to admit it…"

"That you missed a robot?"

"That I was an idiot denying I missed a robot."

CROWLEY wheezed, then hummed. It was his laughter, Aziraphale had learned long ago. 

"Shall I carry you to bed, my prince?"

Aziraphale laughed - and missed that humming in himself. He nodded.

CROWLEY carried him to bed, undressed him - calmly, but with trembling and scorchingly hot hands.

"Dearest, please adjust your body temperature."

"It's adjusted…" CROWLEY looked up from where he was helping Aziraphale out of his shoes. "It's uninvited. The realest."

Aziraphale fell asleep in CROWLEY's arms, no blanket necessary when the robot was wrapped around him. 

"Funny thing is… so many people fall asleep hearing their fridge or air-conditioning or the buzzing of the nightlight… the sound of the cars. Phones calling. And you're all of it…"

"Shhhh, my human idiot. I've got you. I need to work on my thermoregulation next, so let me think."

Aziraphale wiggled against CROWLEY's body and was out the following moment. CROWLEY spent the night trying to get his body temperature under control. He could feel the red of his spine. 

That man, that… that creature in his arms was so fragile and warm, so painfully mortal. He'd been dying since the day he was born, there was a limit to his existence, and CROWLEY, he thought he could do something to stop it. To put everything on hold. To slow down time until it screeched like an old train and could move no longer. 

"Let time breathe," CROWLEY thought. "Let time wear out. If death wants a sacrifice, I'll give him time…"

***

Aziraphale woke up to find his bed empty. He got up and went around the house to find CROWLEY. He was scribbling something on the giant whiteboard in his (absolutely his now) laboratory,  _ The Name of the Game  _ coming out of his ears. 

"Morning, dearest."

"Hey, angel." CROWLEY lowered the music and turned to Aziraphale. "Sorry I left you. Had too many thoughts."

"You owe me nothing, darling," Aziraphale said slowly, tasting the endearment. Rubbery, humming, right.

"Not true. For me. That is for me it's not true." CROWLEY looked aside. 

"Dance with me?" Aziraphale suggested. He was sleeping shirtless, and suddenly his skin tingled with CROWLEY's touch.

"Thank you for not wearing those rags for me."

"Cohen. Very subtle…" Aziraphale chuckled, nuzzling CROWLEY's neck. CROWLEY just made the music louder, and it was still ABBA. They swayed slowly, out of time and rhythm and music. 

"How does it feel for you to touch me?" Aziraphale asked.

CROWLEY hummed, loudly and… oh dear, he was confused. He was the sweetest thing on Earth. Aziraphale held him tighter. 

"Feels… like charging. But better. Some absolute electricity… Feels alive. I'm alive, angel. I've always known it… Know your pulse. Can't help it, took it. Your pulse, temperature… Worried about you. Want you safe, want you alive. You're warm, you're soft, your body is… it's beautiful. Like holding a cloud, like getting something you're not supposed to get. Know you're aroused. Hope it's because of me…" 

Aziraphale slid a hand under CROWLEY's shirt. 

"How do I feel to you?" CROWLEY asked.

"Like melted cheese." Aziraphale nipped at CROWLEY's neck. "Taste like it too…"

"Oh… I'm afraid it's because you mentioned cheese. Cheese is good! Tried some when I woke up."

"What… what happens to the stuff you consume?"

"Well, I take the liquids and the minerals out. The rest… like, when I left your side, I went to the bathroom and… emptied the sack. Don't have the intestines, it's simpler with me. Don't need a bathroom. Just didn't want to stink. I showered."

Aziraphale laughed quietly, nipping and biting at the synthetic and oversensitive skin. There were no marks left, all the saliva was instantly soaked in… so… so there was some of Aziraphale's saliva now in CROWLEY's body, contributing to the miracle he was.

"I'm charging," CROWLEY said, a bit embarrassed.

"From me?" Aziraphale looked up.

"I lied angel, all those years ago. I only charge from you. You're my body electric."

"Oh darling…" Aziraphale nuzzled his neck again. "Why do you have chest hair?"

"Dunno. Seemed… seemed kinda nice. Thought of your fingers stuck there…"

Aziraphale smiled. He could imagine waking up to CROWLEY standing in front of the mirror and adjusting himself this way and that, as long as the eyes remained the same. 

With a jolt, Aziraphale realised that for all the happiness, it still felt peculiar at best. What was wrong with him that he wanted nothing more than to hold on to that body electric or whatever he was these days and not to let go. Perhaps he had been fighting his own battle against death or the propensity of things to change. CROWLEY, on the other hand, was steadfast. He changed and a lot, but his metaphorical and literal core was the same. How could Aziraphale be sure that what they… had, if any, was true? It was a terrible question, Aziraphale knew it, because nothing was ever solidly just one thing. Purity was just an illusion, a product of human imagination, but then so was CROWLEY, yet Aziraphale gravitated towards purity. 

But what if this connection, this love proved to be nothing more than Aziraphale's inability to form such a connection with another human? With an imperfect, boring human, and none of the people in Aziraphale's life had held the same place in his heart, in all of him, as CROWLEY did. It all was unsettling, and Aziraphale just pressed himself closer to CROWLEY, letting his humming lull him into peace, at least for the moment.


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale would fall asleep in CROWLEY's arms and would wake up alone. Trying to get CROWLEY to  _ mind the time _ had never proved to be effective, so Aziraphale would get on with his day. He had built quite a reputation back in Oxford, so the clients kept coming, especially as the books became rarer and more cherished, more expensive… But enough of that. 

Was it  _ truly human  _ to be unable to focus on one's job and instead let one's mind wander through the house, seeking that gentle humming? CROWLEY didn't seem to be bothered by having Aziraphale so close. Of course, he never minded the time, but still… 

Still Aziraphale was alone in that big old house. Still he thought that CROWLEY didn't care enough, that CROWLEY didn't love, that CROWLEY couldn't love. Wasn't it a bit too desperate, to convince oneself that at least a robot could love him?

The truth was, of course, that even a robot could love Aziraphale and that Aziraphale could only love someone as perfect as CROWLEY. Alright, he didn't breathe, he smelled of synthetics, he  _ emptied  _ his stomach whenever he wanted to, but still… But still Aziraphale missed him, missed his terrible questions, missed his unnerving smile, missed all of him. 

He'd show up, always, when Aziraphale was getting ready to sleep, lying down there, no smell of sweat, no smell of his own, an arm under the head, the ever curious glass eyes looking up at the ceiling. 

One evening Aziraphale lay down next to him and asked, as his hand, uninvited and therefore real, caressed CROWLEY's chest:

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do. I love you awfully much, angel."

"But how do you know it?" Aziraphale didn't even realise that his fingers got stuck in the auburn chest hair.

"I know it. I know gravity and chaos theory, I know the speed of light, I know that the Riemann hypothesis is not true… Shhh, don't tell anyone… Know that the Goldbach's conjecture is true. Don't tell anyone about this either. Please… Know it because… because I've disassembled myself a lot and put myself back together a lot, and it still hasn't changed a thing. I love you, angel, it's an axiome, it's impossible to prove and might be difficult to believe in, but it's true. There's no universe, no geometry in all of the multiverse where I don't love you."

CROWLEY was speaking calmly, his eyes on the ceiling, his silly lips formed into a smitten smile. Aziraphale pulled him closer and kissed his lips. It was magnificent, the kiss, the slow and astronomical pull between them. CROWLEY hummed, then moaned. Aziraphale's hand went to his spine, and it was burning, scorching, almost painful to touch, but against Aziraphale's so called better judgement, against every voice of so called reason, it was CROWLEY, who suddenly pulled back.

"That's an erection, angel. Wired it wrong. It all went to my spine… Give me a moment…"

Aziraphale kissed him again, pushing him back, pressing him into the bed. 

"Let me… let me rewire it… angel!"

Aziraphale touched his spine, ran his fingers along the length of it, delighted at CROWLEY's moans and whines of pleasure. 

"Leave it. Want you true. Want you real. Want you." Aziraphale kissed CROWLEY's collarbones, those fragile and indestructible rods of some really good metal. 

"But… it's not what you want… you want me human…"

"I don't want a single human," Aziraphale groaned, pushing every other thought away. "I want a robot. I want the robot, I want you.  _ You. _ Even if your erection is somehow wired to your spine. Especially if so. Be ridiculous with me, please. Someone knows I've been ridiculous for so long…"

Bits of various songs and poems turned into an unintelligible mess in CROWLEY's lips, as Aziraphale flipped them over to have an easier access to CROWLEY's spine. The robot trembled in Aziraphale's arms, lost and fragile, so fragile. He could be thrown into a fire and survive it, he could be thrown into a river and survive it, but he was nothing against the ghostly touch of Aziraphale's fingers on his spine, almost scarlett at that point.

"Sh… should I attach something different?" CROWLEY asked, nay, muttered against Aziraphale's lips. 

"What are you wearing?"

"Nothing. Didn't know I wired myself wrongly… didn't know. I swear I didn't know." His heavy head rested on Aziraphale's shoulder. 

"I trust you, darling… fuck, I only ever trusted you."

CROWLEY arched back, a blue sparkle flew across the yellow of his eyes.

"What did they do?" His face was so close to Aziraphale's, so close, as it had always been meant to be. 

"Nothing like you would."

"And what would I do? What did you write there, in that fanfiction of yours? What did I do there? Not going to check it now, spell it out."

"I love it that you don't have saliva," Aziraphale replied, struggling for breath and squirming out of his pyjama bottoms. "I love it you can do anything with your hands, with your crotch. I love that there's no trouble opening you, making it quick and desperate. I love that you can adjust yourself to be mine. I love it that you're mine…"

CROWLEY straightened up, straddling Aziraphale's hips. "So, you love it that I'm a robot then? Easy to fuck? Damn impossible to get?"

Aziraphale sat up to pull CROWLEY into another kiss. "I love that it's you. You, witty, maddening, questioning you. You take only one thing for certain… and that thing is me. I love you. Touch me."

"You know, I can put on a dick. Or a cunt. I can fuck you for days just to feel you. I could make myself into a tiny droid inside your body, sitting on your prostate, growing into it…"

"How would I talk to you then? Want to talk to you…" Aziraphale breathed heavily, striving to remember how to do it at all. CROWLEY had his hand around Aziraphale's cock, demanding and gentle, fucking fantastic.

"I… They never touched me like that…"

"Wait until I fuck you, angel. Or you fuck me."

"No, no, darling, you fuck me. You make me yours, you make me a robot to match you."

CROWLEY, because he  _ was  _ real, because he  _ was  _ alive, smirked at that. 

"You sure, angel? Because androids do have dreams, at least I do, and my dreams are all about you."

It became a bit blurred after that, but Aziraphale felt and remembered CROWLEY leaving for a few minutes, remembered him returning; remembered feeling CROWLEY's clever fingers inside him, remembered shuddering at another mention of turning into a tiny droid torturing, pardon, teasing, pardon, pleasing Aziraphale's prostate. Aziraphale remembered feeling CROWLEY's unreal dick inside of him, and most importantly remembered, oh he remembered, that CROWLEY was real, was amazing, was loving him, even if Aziraphale couldn't fully grasp the notion of a robot in love, yet this particular robot  _ was  _ in love,  _ remained  _ in love. 

Hours went by, or maybe days, CROWLEY licked Aziraphale clean, replaced his cock with a cunt and back again. Aziraphale licked CROWLEY clean too of course. Aziraphale's mouth was tingling with the tangy, rubbery taste of CROWLEY's skin, the way that taste mixed up with Aziraphale's own, the way, Aziraphale's tongue seemed to be squirming in his mouth to get yet another taste of CROWLEY. Beautiful, oh so fucking beautiful!

CROWLEY's hands on him, CROWLEY's mouth on him, all of CROWLEY on him, to no end, to no satisfaction. 

"It's so lovely, angel… you. So lovely…" CROWLEY deliriously nuzzled Aziraphale's chest. "Could do this… forever… You must be sore, though…"

Aziraphale flipped them over and fucked CROWLEY silly. At some point CROWLEY called his orgasms  _ glitching,  _ then both burst out laughing.

Once Aziraphale was a wet mess (for the upteenth time), and CROWLEY was wheezing sweetly on Aziraphale's chest (same), Aziraphale asked:

"You made it a setting of yours, didn't you? To love me."

"Yes. I loved that state well enough to make it permanent. I'm sorry if it scares or upsets you, angel, but I have enough of personality to choose what I want to stay loyal to. I'm staying loyal to you…" He kissed Aziraphale's cheek. "I chose to. It takes someone else to change it, and in my case that someone is me."

"You're your own god, aren't you, my heart?"

"No. I don't worship myself. I think I worship life… But… I'm in love with you. All the life could go and fuck itself, but I wouldn't notice, if there's you. I need you. I want you. I love you."

And Aziraphale thought,  _ oh no _ . And Aziraphale thought,  _ oh fuck, oh yes, oh please, oh more.  _ And Aziraphale thought,  _ oh fuck my life.  _

"Darling, I think I've been terribly ableist. I've been thinking of you judging by how much you conform to the idea of  _ normal. _ But you're not  _ normal _ . You're mine. Would I have loved you less, had you been a human with what's called  _ a disability _ ? I'd like to think I would have loved you just the same. I'd have loved all of you. I love you… Oh good lord, I love you so fucking much."

CROWLEY held on tighter.

"May… may I set up my workshop in the laboratory? To be closer to you? I miss you…"

"Angel, of course. Do whatever you need. I want you near. Want you… want to be a part of you. I can be one, you know?"

"You've mentioned, dearest… darling."

Aziraphale fell asleep. It had been days, after all, CROWLEY knew. 

He got off the bed and ran into the orchard. "You guys… you… you GROW BETTER! You… you never die, ok? I love him. I love him so fucking much." CROWLEY didn't have anything to cry with but he did cry, the way he could. 

***

Aziraphale set up his work place next to CROWLEY. 

CROWLEY danced with Aziraphale to every silly song Aziraphale had considered silly and CROWLEY considered just awesome. 

CROWLEY made dinner. CROWLEY ate with Aziraphale, although he just wanted to snog Aziraphale and was jealous of the food he had made.

Aziraphale spoonfed CROWLEY and explained patiently what everything tasted like. 

Slowly and carefully, Aziraphale came to think that if being human implied not loving CROWLEY, then he didn't want to be a human. He looked at his beloved and saw nothing he would lose had he become a robot too.


	6. Chapter 6

Aziraphale woke up early. Crowley was humming next to him, eyes closed, but certainly awake because CROWLEY's way of sleeping was daydreaming about Aziraphale which he didn't have to do anymore.

"Darling…"

"Hm, angel? Morning? Love you." CROWLEY opened his eyes and glanced at Aziraphale. "Slept well?"

"Darling…" Aziraphale snuggled closer. CROWLEY was clean and warm, smelled of himself and had no morning breath, didn't have breath at all. "Did you get rid of me from the last night?"

"No. Sperm is nutritious, I've been playing with some biotech, so…" CROWLEY trailed off. 

"Could you rewire your anus to be sensitive?" Aziraphale asked. In all honesty, CROWLEY never managed to rewire himself completely. His spine remained his most sensitive part, even if he made his cock/cunt/whatever Aziraphale wanted sensitive.

"No. Touch my spine. This is where it's the best. You said you loved me." CROWLEY was incredibly beautiful when he was defiant, and Aziraphale would always see, clearly and transparently, that his inhibitions were worth nothing, that he wanted to touch CROWLEY's spine… but…

"I want to taste myself on you. Could you let me? I'll touch your spine, of course I will, but I wanted you to feel me eating your incredible robotic arse."

"Do it like that," CROWLEY insisted. Aziraphale… he swooned. He knew, of he fucking knew that CROWLEY would rewire himself sneakily while Aziraphale was eating him out… 

"You know," Aziraphale said when they were both decent and working, "I love all of you."

"I love you too, angel," CROWLEY replied without turning to look at Aziraphale.

"What are you working on, love?"

"Something for Bea… they agreed to marry Gabriel, can you believe it?"

"I can. Can you?"

"I'm alright, I guess… They know about us and they don't care, so they deserve… everything."

CROWLEY frowned. Aziraphale held him. Michael and Uriel weren't that accepting in the end, and Aziraphale hadn't talked to them in years. 

At first he was angry and vengeful. Then he stopped caring, because as the years thundered by, as CROWLEY invented more and more things, great, incredible things that kept people alive and that Bea begrudgingly took the credit for, Aziraphale couldn't care any less about his sister and her wife… That wasn't true, though. Uriel was fine with Aziraphale living with a robot, but Michael somehow took it as an insult. She had used to be fond of CROWLEY, but when the jokes of their love proved to be true, she couldn't accept it. She had waited for five years, and then got furious that she had been proven wrong.

Gabriel sided with Aziraphale, because Bea sided with Aziraphale.

"What is it, darling?"

CROWLEY lingered before replying, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

"They want me to make them seven years younger. They don't want to… they feel like a creep because they had known of Gabriel's existence when Gabriel was still a minor."

Aziraphale hummed. It had been years since he began to ponder over turning into an android himself, gradually of course. After much arguing CROWLEY did replace his cardiovascular system with his own invention, but CROWLEY still wouldn't believe that Aziraphale would want to be like him.

"If we're both robots, my love, we could just… run away from everything. Hide somewhere among the stars. Hide somewhere in the Internet." Aziraphale would whisper it to CROWLEY at night, and CROWLEY would wheeze and would say that Aziraphale wouldn't want to be a robot… Oh, how the tables had turned! Aziraphale persuaded CROWLEY to play with his anus to make it stretched according to Aziraphale's desires, and Aziraphale always desired. He was currently persuading CROWLEY to do something to his prostate, so that he'd never stop feeling CROWLEY there.

"I'm insatiable, love, you know it, you always knew it… Put a part of you there. Convert me. Make me one of your kind. Don't want to be my birth kind anymore."

"You never wanted to be a robot."

"No, darling. I just couldn't admit I love one…"

CROWLEY wasn't aging, and Aziraphale was. CROWLEY wasn't going to die and refused to think of Aziraphale's death. 

"How I scared you, my love, my maddening, clever darling, if you think I don't want to live forever by your side."

"Don't you want me to die with you? I could, you know. I could do it."

At that point CROWLEY could make any bio prosthesis anyone might want, so he could make himself mortal, and he almost did on one occasion. Aziraphale was there to stop him.

"Don't you dare think I don't want an eternity with you, CROWLEY. I want all of you… Insatiable, remember?"

It was intoxicating, that feeling, that he was just a step, just an argument away from CROWLEY putting him on the table and turning him into an insatiable android.

"It's irreversible, angel. You'll hate me once you realise everyone you love is dead."

"You won't be dead. Everything else I can survive."

"Don't try to… seduce me, angel."

"Do I need to? You're mine. You have your human documents, we can get married, if you want."

"Is this your romantic proposal, angel?"

"Oh fuck, do you need one?"

"I don't. I'd love one just the same."

It took Aziraphale about two years to let CROWLEY stop thinking about it, and then he proposed, candles, flowers, aromatic oils, whatever one might want. CROWLEY literally jumped Aziraphale's bones after that.

What was there, Aziraphale sometimes wondered, inside that ineffable brain, that made CROWLEY deny Aziraphale the only thing he had truly wanted? 

"Make me fucking immortal! You won't lose me then! You've been fighting death for years…"

And CROWLEY would turn his head and hiss:

"You will hate me. I know you will. I can't bear it."

"So, you can bear me dying?"

"I will die too, angel. You're my energy, remember? I literally can't live without you."

"Are you afraid that when I'm a robot you won't be able to feed off me?"

Aziraphale regretted saying those words, because CROWLEY disappeared for a fucking year. He turned himself into a bloody nanobot and refused to be found, and once he was, he refused to turn back into his former self. Said self stood in the corner of their shared working space, gathering dust. 

He didn't return until Aziraphale was just some yearning mess on the floor. 

"That's unhealthy." CROWLEY bore no argument.

"Well, I wasn't the one to disappear."

"You think I love you because I feed off you? How dare you? All those years, a fucking wedding, and you still treat me… as an unfortunate coincidence."

"Darling, you disappeared instead of talking to me. What was I supposed to think?"

"That I wasn't feeding off you! I have electricity. I have the sun. I have you and I choose you but…"

"Make me like you. Make me what you are. You're perfect, my darling, my beautiful robot. I want to be equally perfect for you."

"You're perfect as you are, angel. I'm telling you, it's irreversible… let me work on it, ok? If I can reverse it, if I can… play with it freely, I'll do anything you ask. But spending eternity knowing you hate me… I can't. You're my everything. I turned you into my everything because I love you… so you're right, I guess. I'm selfish."

"You don't have a selfish bite in your body, my darling… So considerate, so beautiful, mine…" Aziraphale would growl his  _ mine  _ into CROWLEY's mouth and skin, especially into his spine. 

"Darling, please, darling… I don't want to leave you alone. I don't want you to suffer. Make me like you."

"You'll hate me… you'll hate me, angel."

And Aziraphale would sit in front of the mirror while CROWLEY was making their breakfast, and ask his own reflection if it was even feasible, for him to hate CROWLEY. He was alone, he was lonely, he was  _ strange  _ before he accepted CROWLEY, and now… Now his indecisiveness was haunting him.

Michael and Uriel were getting older. Bea and Gabriel didn't age a day. Bea and Gabriel wanted to outlive everyone who remembered that once there had been a smitten boy called Gabriel and a then indifferent person called Bea. 

"Look at them, love…"

"Angel, it's Michael's funeral…"

"Oh, to hell with her. She hated you. I couldn't care less."

"You're mad, angel."

"Oh you just noticed? Been mad since you opened your wicked eyes in my living room."

"It's your sister, angel."

"My sister who refused my love, while her own love was still acceptable only in certain circles? My sister who liked you until you had your cock up my arse? Oh, she can burn in hell, the delusional woman she was."

Tracy adored them both, supported them both and gave no damn about the whole situation. Ironically, CROWLEY offered to make her immortal, but she refused. She left hers and Shadwell's wedding rings for CROWLEY and Aziraphale.  _ You need some family heirloom, dear, so take this. No, you won't help me. You could have helped me when Shadwell was alive, but he was too afraid of you… Now I'm paying the price. _

CROWLEY wailed for two days in the midst of his orchard. Aziraphale had to plug him in to charge. He couldn't have been more in love, than when he was plugging CROWLEY to a socket. 

"See, love. I don't care anymore… I want you. I want you forever."

CROWLEY was unresponsive, his beautiful Venetian glass eyes unmoving and uncaring.


	7. Chapter 7

CROWLEY broke. He had never broken. Bea who had reinvented themselves as Beez by that point rushed to fix CROWLEY, and then pushed Aziraphale into the table.

"He'll hate me, but you're 120, Aziraphale, and I'm not losing you, ok? Did it with Gabriel too. I know what I'm doing…"

Aziraphale trusted them, because, well, he had seen what they had done to Gabriel. He was forever young and handsome, but each transformation began frighteningly alien. Gabriel would return to himself, to his smitten self, but each time Beez would be scared.

Yet Aziraphale wasn't scared. He trusted CROWLEY completely, he trusted him with his heart and with his body. He knew CROWLEY would do everything to keep Aziraphale as he was. 

CROWLEY was of course furious when he woke up, but he couldn't decide who he was angry with, so that storm passed quickly. 

The thing about immortality and being for all intents and purposes a robot that Aziraphale had never considered was that the time had changed its pace. It was slower now, it allowed for endless hours of reading and work, but even better, it allowed for long and happy hours of holding Crowley close to him, of making love for weeks, of literally watching the grass grow, and it was glorious, not boring at all. 

Another ten years passed without Aziraphale noticing it. 

Then ten more. 

And ten more. 

Beez reinvented themselves a few more times, and Gabriel stopped losing himself after each new addition of something new and unbreakable to his body. He changed a lot, but one wouldn't notice, even Beez didn't notice.

A century passed, and another. Aziraphale was eternally grateful for all this endless time with CROWLEY, and CROWLEY would spend much time gazing longingly into the night sky.

"What is it you're missing, love? Am I… are you tired of me?"

"What? Silly angel, I love you so much, how can I ever be tired of you?"

"But you… you long for something, and apparently I can't give it to you."

"I'm tired of this planet, angel. We have… damn big brains, and mine is becoming… adventurous… What would you say if we left the Earth?"

"But we can't, darling."

"Why can't we? I love you, angel, I admire your body, because it's you, even if there's nothing there left of the original you. Nothing is left of the original me either… I'm working on something… but… but we'll never kiss again if I'm successful."

"Then whatever it is I don't want it."

The subject was dropped.

They traveled everywhere on Earth, they swam across every ocean, they spent a year travelling with a confused blue whale, and by the end of their trip Ezra realised that he hadn't been missing food or wine, or his books. Every memory was perfectly saved in his brain now and could be relieved, but more importantly, he could relieve it with CROWLEY, could share it with him without any need for words, for talking. Maybe being human was lovely, but being human meant he couldn't just send it to CROWLEY just the way he felt it. 

They climbed every mountain and explored the ocean depths, spent years in various caves. 

They didn't need to talk anymore, but they talked all the same, although differently, without words or using a dozen of languages simultaneously. 

They'd read to each other, but mostly they'd melt into something conjoint, something that was decidedly both of them and neither. 

"What had you been working on all those years ago, my love?"

"Wanted to turn us into… something without bodies. Just you know, waves. Consciousness, two of these, actually. Wanted to fly through the universe together…"

"But are we still together, darling? Or are becoming something… something new? Are we becoming one entity?"

"There's marriage for you, angel."

"We haven't made love in years…" Aziraphale remembered. 

CROWLEY was horrified, and much to Aziraphale's delight a decade was spent back at home, making love without a break or a breath. 

"I can hold you close and be one with you," CROWLEY wept. "But it's never enough… I can never get close enough to you to stop missing you. I've been missing you since I met you, and I miss your right now, still inside you."

Aziraphale realised it was true. His body didn't  _ need _ things anymore, unless he chose to need something. But whatever his body might need or want, his mind yearned for CROWLEY just the same. He wanted to crawl inside his husband's every thought, every doubt, every intention. It was intoxicating to know how welcome he was to do so. It was even more intoxicating to know that he wanted CROWLEY to do just the same, to see and experience every little thing Aziraphale had ever felt, to let CROWLEY know how much Aziraphale's darling had been missed during the time they spent apart, and they hadn't been apart for centuries.

There seemed to be some limit to their intimacy that they failed to cross, to overcome, and Aziraphale, as insatiable as he had always been, wanted all of CROWLEY to himself, and wanted all of himself with CROWLEY. 

Beez and Gabriel didn't approve, but Beez and Gabriel were still humans. Aziraphale couldn't explain it to them, how the limitations of having a body, of being separate from CROWLEY was a torture. 

They had been together for six hundred years when they left the Earth and ventured into the universe.

"It's so… so joyous to see it all with you, my darling, my beautiful, clever love." Aziraphale said when they were traveling around Jupiter.

"It's… I can't say how happy I am, angel… I love you so much."

Neither of them was talking, but the waves they were now crossed and crushed against each other, there was another huge storm on Jupiter because of them, and they were just two giddy waves chasing each other and turning into one tidal wave once they were joined. 

"It's a big universe, angel… and I get to see it with you!"

"I love you too, darling."

There were galaxies, stars, planets, magnificent nebulae to see. The time had no power over them anymore, they stopped even trying to measure it the Earth way, so they switched to light years, and then abandoned the enterprise altogether. 

They watched stars being born and turning into black holes. They found it was quite tingly (if it could still be called so) to dive inside a black hole. They melted into each other, yet never lost their companionship. 

"Are we still two, darling?"

"Have we ever been, angel?"

"Can't recall… oh dearest…" And with what could be called a blissful sigh Aziraphale melted into CROWLEY completely, and CROWLEY completely grew into Aziraphale, one glorious, curious, funny and mischievous consciousness, endless, without measure,  _ ineffable. _

On and on they went, happy, so happy, until one moment some part of them that used to be Aziraphale cozied up to a part of them that used to be CROWLEY… 

"Remember there was a place… something blue and green… something beautiful… cozy… remember? We loved differently and lived differently… I want to see that place again. Can we remember how to get there? This green, this blue… haunting, it is… so much love… so much love…"


	8. Chapter 8

How do you find something if you're mighty enough to have no care for the very concept of direction? How do you find what's calling for you if you traveled through countless dimensions out of your insatiable curiosity?

Their memory is more CROWLEY than Aziraphale, and it takes them, by an approximate estimation, about two billion years and countless green and blue planets, but they find the one they are looking for. It's just blue, though.

There are whales swimming by their house, but the house is clever, it's sealed, it's carrying some long forgotten message. 

"Did you make it all… like that, darling?"

"I did. Knew you'd want to come back eventually, and where you go, I go too, angel."

"What do we do now, my love?"

They find messages from Bea and Gabriel. They followed Aziraphale and CROWLEY eventually, and their last message is from Jupiter, about ten million years ago. They are fine, they are happy, they are together.

Aziraphale and CROWLEY are such a crucial part of the universe at this point that whatever they wish, just happens, as if it had never been any different, so suddenly there's an island, all green and with the tallest trees they can imagine, and suddenly there are deer and foxes and wolves roaming around. There's a vegetable garden and an apple orchard. They split up into two separate beings again. It hurts a bit, it hurts a lot, but they make love for weeks on end, and it's bittersweet and tender. It's strange after such a long time. They are awkward and silly all over again. 

"Are we young again, angel?"

"I doubt that, my love. Would have been awful for me… Refusing you again and again… I'm a part of you. I'm happy to be a part of you and for you, to be a part of me."

"Always poetic, angel."

They find the Met and the National Gallery, but everything is lost to time and recklessness. They find the Ritz.

"Always wanted to take you here, darling… Oh darling, how lucky I am to have you."

"Love you too, angel. Love you so much."

When CROWLEY is overwhelmed, his newly made body sort of dissolves and he's just a vibration in the air that makes Aziraphale grateful for remembering how to breathe, so he breathes CROWLEY in, they are together again, together as in one flesh, one blood, one mind.

"I love you, darling. I want you. You made me your permanent setting, but you're mine, forever."

"How very sentimental… oh fuck, angel."

They bring back Eurasia and Africa, both Americas, Australia, New Zealand, the Antarctica and the North Pole. Their memories are not clear, so there are huge bears and quite monstrous penguins, there's Quetzalcoatl flying across the sky, there are mammoths, and there are apatosaurs. There are velvet worms the size of a… damn big velvet worms. There are horseshoe crabs, there are more whales than any other species except for plankton, because Aziraphale and CROWLEY want their whales well-fed. 

They spot a unicorn or two, and at first they giggle but then they are really worried about the accuracy of such a thing existing, so there are no more unicorns. Tardigrades are huge, they are indeed water bears because they are exactly the size of the bears. Ammonites are enormous floating beauties, all Fibonacci glory and suchlike.

Aziraphale looks at CROWLEY as he examines a gigantic empty shell one day, and Aziraphale's heart is dancing and moving and beating, and he doesn't even have a heart, but alright, his very essence is vibrating, seeing his husband, his lover, his best companion, his best friend looking into an empty shell with that invincible curiosity nothing could ever wear off. 

Other things, other memories, they are unimportant. Aziraphale knows that they are at home. They don't need to eat, but Aziraphale loves watching CROWLEY cook. They don't need to drink, but CROWLEY loves watching Aziraphale preparing tea. 

Scientifically, paleontologically, nothing makes sense, but… but whatever. They make their own laws at this point. 

They build houses and submarines, they watch trilobites mating, and isn't that arousing? They carve mountains like paper figurines. They bury dead dinosaurs and mourn mammoths. Nature doesn't have any course, but neither do they. They are just happy, and they feel at home, so they do anything they want. No thing ever dies, and the planet grows to accommodate everyone. 

At night they make love and they talk. 

Lo and behold, it's good. 

Aziraphale grows restless but he keeps it to himself, although CROWLEY notices of course. 

They discover winemaking, and CROWLEY is charmed by the chemistry, while Aziraphale is charmed by being all mindless and easily seduced. 

"My love, do you think… do you think we need company?"

"I don't. I need you." 

They grow playful for a while, so Quetzalcoatls grow bigger and bigger, and penguins hunt bears for a while. 

"Just a game we're not supposed to play… I don't care, angel. I defied every law there is long before… long before this. Had I any divine power, I'd defy my own laws for you."

When they are preoccupied with themselves, the nature shyly takes its course, although it's not something the nature they used to know would have chosen, but they are  _ preoccupied.  _

They don't know it but they slow down time, sunsets last far longer than Aziraphale would have expected, and he points it out to CROWLEY, who just smirks. 

"Oh dearest… you shouldn't have."

"I surely should have. To make you glow and all flustered."

Aziraphale sometimes thinks on the nature of their immortality. They are immortal alright, but the universe, this universe they spent quite a lot of time finding again, is not. They will end with it, and Aziraphale is worried and silent. 

Until he feels one day that something shifted, something changed, all things seem new and unknown.

"Darling, what have you done?"

"No biggie, changed the… you know, mechanics of the universe. It's alright. I have an imagination."

"And now what?"

"And now we live forever, just as we always wanted, angel. Isn't it lovely?" He's teasing, there's no way he's using the word  _ lovely _ .

"Are you even real, my love?"

"I am, angel. I changed the world for you. How much more real it can get?"


End file.
